


And All Our Gentle Mornings After

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Making Out, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro watches Keith sleep and thinks,I don’t deserve him.It’s an occasional thought that floats into his mind, usually in the quieter, sleepier moments like this. And heknowswhat Keith would say if Shiro ever voiced that thought out loud. Shiro knows very well how Keith would look as he sparked with anger, how vividly that passion would flare to life. He’d double-down on assuring Shiro that he is worth it, that he is everything, that he is always worthy of happiness and peace.Shiro knows this about Keith and he loves him for it.Or: Shiro and Keith enjoy a lazy morning together.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 262





	And All Our Gentle Mornings After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayra_isaac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayra_isaac/gifts).



> Art trade with [Ayra](https://twitter.com/AyraIsaacArt)! We decided to do an art-trade where I wrote a fic for one of their art and they drew art for one of my fics! 
> 
> I had so much fun with this and struggled to decide on a pic since they're all so much fun. Ultimately, I decided to go with the soft sleepy vibes of [this art of sheith in bed](https://twitter.com/AyraIsaacArt/status/1241482348467716096). For added flavor, I also looked at [this pic of Shiro smiling](https://twitter.com/AyraIsaacArt/status/1287479619122343943) for inspiration. He is, of course, always looking at Keith. ♥ 
> 
> I hope you like this!

Shiro watches Keith sleep and thinks, _I don’t deserve him._

It’s an occasional thought that floats into his mind, usually in the quieter, sleepier moments like this. And he _knows_ what Keith would say if Shiro ever voiced that thought out loud. Shiro knows very well how Keith would look as he sparked with anger, how vividly that passion would flare to life. He’d double-down on assuring Shiro that he is worth it, that he is everything, that he is always worthy of happiness and peace. 

Shiro knows this about Keith and he loves him for it. 

Even if Shiro can’t always believe it for himself, he believes in Keith— and trusts Keith to know who is worthy of him. Shiro knows this, just as he knows he’ll spend the rest of his life proving to himself that he can be. That he is. 

Shiro has a long life in front of him, endless days to spend making Keith the happiest man in the universe. He intends to take full advantage of that. 

Keith shifts in his sleep, breathing out a sleepy murmur. 

It’s rare for Shiro to wake before Keith. Usually, the slightest shift of Shiro’s body is enough to jar Keith awake— some sort of instinctual practice he learned during the war and never quite shook off. But it’s not the case this morning, it seems. 

Keith looks rested, at least, sprawled out on his back, his bare chest rising and falling with his breath. His hair is a mess— he’ll need a shower when he wakes up, Shiro thinks— and his red sleep pants are riding low on his hips. 

He’s adorable when he sleeps. Shiro loves watching his nose wrinkle or the way he’ll sometimes smack his lips. Shiro loves to tease him about it, calling him a sleepy cat or rubbing his belly until he purrs. Keith always grumbles about it, but never pushes his hand away. 

Keith mumbles in his sleep. Whenever he starts to get verbal like this, Shiro knows he’s about to wake up. He’s learned that after many nights of sleeping beside Keith. 

It’s a strange enough feeling sometimes, to understand the ways he has to reframe the trajectory of his life, to know that he is still young, and life is still unfolding in front of him. That he has years and years and years to spend with Keith, with his friends, with his family, with the small mundane things he can take for granted and the cosmic events that define a lifetime. He gets it all. He gets it all with Keith. 

He gets to enjoy mornings like this, memorizing the silly things Keith does in his sleep. He gets to spend the rest of his life with Keith, learning every little detail about him. 

It's the little things that he loves most. What would be dull and ordinary to anyone else is miraculous to him: he loves to learn all the small ways he and Keith fit together as a couple. They both love pineapple pizza. They both hate horror movies. They will both drink black coffee if they must but prefer a splash of milk— or just tea instead. 

He knows the small things about Keith. The way he moves silently through their apartment, only making purposeful noise for Shiro’s benefit. The way he lingers in their bed in the morning, when he thinks Shiro is still asleep, just looking at him. How he’ll lean down sometimes to kiss Shiro’s forehead, innocent and sweet, and it makes Shiro want to cry every time. That it depends on the day if Keith is going to be extra-bold or extra-shy with the way he orbits Shiro. Sometimes just a kiss on the cheek is enough to make him blush. Other times, Keith will crowd Shiro up against a wall and kiss the breath from his lungs, uncaring if anyone else sees. 

He likes knowing these things about Keith. 

Shiro likes watching Keith, just like this: watching him kick his foot out and mumble in his sleep once again, waking in increments. Keith waking up is so much like a fire in the hearth, slow and smoldering and radiating warmth long after the flames have died down. 

Keith stirs, the mumbling stopping but his breathing changing. He’s awake now. Shiro smiles, watching as Keith rolls over and flattens onto his stomach as if a change in position could bring sleep back to him. 

Shiro lifts his hand and drags his fingertips down the curve of Keith’s spine. Keith shivers and arches, just the slightest bit, before turning his head. He opens his eyes, peeking up at Shiro with a sleepy hum. 

“Oh, you’re awake, too,” Keith says, but there’s no surprise in his voice. Keith would have noticed Shiro’s sitting position the moment he woke, even with his eyes closed. Keith always knows where Shiro is. 

Shiro smiles at him. “Morning, baby.” 

Keith grunts, like the reminder that it _is_ morning is a deep offense, burying his face into the pillow. 

He’s cute even when he’s being silly, Shiro thinks. And handsome. He’s always handsome. Shiro sweeps his eyes over the expanse of Keith’s back, the shift of his muscles as he squirms on the bed. Keith shoves his hands under the pillow, his shoulders bunching up. 

“It’s a lost cause,” Shiro says. “You’re not going to be able to sleep again.” 

Keith ignores him, lying perfectly still. 

Shiro waits, amused, and then rolls on top of Keith. 

Keith squawks in surprise. “Shiro!” 

“I said good morning, Keith,” Shiro teases, smiling against Keith’s ear as he wriggles against him. 

It’s barely a fight at all. If Keith really wanted to throw him off, he could. Instead he laughs, shoving one hand back to push at Shiro. Shiro just grabs his hand to pin it down, but not before he threads their fingers together. 

“I was sleeping!” 

“But I said ‘good morning’ and you didn’t say it back,” Shiro says, putting a whine in his voice. He nuzzles into Keith’s hair just to hear his boyfriend’s snort of laughter, just to make him squirm further. “And that’s so mean… Won’t you say it back, Keith?” 

“Fuck off!” Keith says, laughing.

And Shiro loves that about Keith— how much easier Keith’s laughter and smiles come now. There was a time when it was a hard-won battle to get Keith to smile even slightly. He remembers their days at the Garrison, before everything, when Keith was sullen and frightened, like a hissing cat ready to strike if cornered. Even with Shiro, Keith could be so guarded. It was a rare moment when he looked truly happy, when he outright smiled. Shiro cradled each one in his heart, something precious and perfect. 

Laughs were even rarer, and usually just the softest chuffs of breath. Now, when Keith throws his head back to laugh, it’s easy and free and because he’s _happy._ And that’s all Shiro ever wanted for Keith— all the happiness in the world. 

_You make me happy,_ Keith told him once. Shiro still can’t believe it could ever be because of him, but he’s grateful for it, and grateful that he gets to see the man Keith’s become. Grateful that he’s part of that happiness. 

Shiro presses a kiss to the spot behind Keith’s ear where he’s particularly ticklish. Sure enough, Keith barks a startled laugh and elbows Shiro in the gut. Shiro just squeezes Keith’s hand. When Keith bucks up, trying to throw him off, Shiro wraps his other arm around his chest and holds on tight. 

He likes the sound of the morning filled with their laughter. Keith’s hand falls easily to Shiro’s forearm, holding tight and hardly trying to grapple with him. 

“You’re _ridiculous,_ ” Keith says, wheezing as Shiro sinks more weight onto him. Keith doesn’t seem disturbed by it, and it’s understandable: Keith is strong. He’s handled Shiro’s weight before. 

Shiro nuzzles at the nape of his neck, kissing the topmost knob of his spine, then shifting to kiss over his shoulder. 

“Stop iiiit,” Keith laughs, outright squirming now as Shiro licks the column of his neck. He’s so ticklish sometimes, it can be downright shocking. But Shiro knows all the spots to prod to get him laughing helplessly. 

Shiro does pause, but only to watch Keith’s face— at his look of pure joy and delight. Keith is _happy._ Not because Shiro’s being an idiot, of course, but because they’re here together. In the end, it’s the simple things that make Keith happy. 

Shiro wants to memorize the way Keith looks in this moment, always— mouth open as he laughs, flashing one dimple, eyes closed as he squirms. His face open and relaxed from a good night’s sleep, its own hard-earned victory. 

But Keith moves like fire— fast, unrelenting, and unexpected. He throws his shoulder back against Shiro’s and with the easiest swing of his leg, knocks Shiro onto his back and rolls up after him. 

He pins Shiro down against the bed, pressing chest to chest, and his eyes spark with triumph. He stares Shiro down and then ducks to kiss him sweetly— just the briefest press of his lips against Shiro’s. It’s gentle. 

Keith is always so gentle with him, in the end. 

“I still haven’t gotten a ‘good morning’,” Shiro says as they part. He flexes his hands, both pinned down by Keith’s sure grip. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Keith says instead of acknowledging the tease. 

And that’s remarkable, too, something that could have felt foreign even a couple years ago. Shiro’s not sure if he can say he’s at peace, not fully. But he’s happy. He’s grateful to be alive, to be here, to be in Keith’s life. He’s happy that he gets more time. He’s happy.

He smiles up at Keith and that says it all. He watches Keith’s expression soften, his hands turning gentle against Shiro’s before his fingers lace between his. He holds his hands above Shiro’s head and leans down again, pressing a kiss first to the corner of his mouth, then his lips properly. 

Shiro sighs as he melts into the feeling of it, the pleasant weight of Keith’s body against his, the curve of his smile against his lips. He could stay like this forever. 

“What’s on your mind?” Keith asks when they part, releasing his hand to trace his fingers along Shiro’s jaw instead, stroking absently. 

“You.”

Keith rolls his eyes at that, but his smile betrays his pleasure at the response. 

“I just…” Shiro says, his free hand lifting to touch Keith’s cheek in turn, fingertips ghosting the line of the scar on his cheek. The one Keith got saving him. A testament, always, to Keith’s love and devotion. 

The thought used to terrify him. It used to hurt, to think of all Keith has gone through because of him. 

But the scar, just like everything else Keith gives to him, is a gift. To Keith, it’s never been a source of sadness or despair. It’s only ever been proof. 

Shiro can’t see it as a positive thing, not really, but it’s easier now to look at Keith’s face. It’s easier to see the ways Keith has grown older and stronger and more sure of himself, to see the way the scar curves across his cheek and know that, somehow, he’s lucky enough to have Keith in his life. 

That they belong to each other.

The scar is a mark of that devotion. It’s why Shiro will spend the rest of his days making sure he’s worthy of that devotion. 

“You’re just so beautiful,” Shiro says. 

Keith rolls his eyes again, but this time when he smiles, he also blushes. He ducks his head down, hiding his face against Shiro’s neck and huffing out a breath. 

“You’re embarrassing,” he murmurs, but doesn’t sound the least bit upset by it. He presses a kiss to the curve of Shiro’s jaw. 

Keith’s always been free with his kisses. Shiro remembers the first time Keith ever kissed him. He just threw Shiro onto the floor during sparring, crawled after him, and kissed him. Just like that, like it was easy. He’d gripped the front of Shiro’s shirt, desperate and determined, like Shiro was the only thing holding him up.

That’d been during the war, though, and maybe it’s true that Shiro was the one holding him up at the time. The more time passes, the more Shiro thinks that Keith doesn’t need him anymore. The thought isn’t a melancholy one, but just a source of pure pride. Keith doesn’t need him anymore, but _wants_ him. Keith is so strong, so talented, so amazing— just like Shiro always knew he would be. 

His expression must be moony, because when Keith draws away, he studies Shiro with a perplexed smile. “So you’re thinking about me,” Keith says, stroking a finger down the slope of Shiro’s nose. “What about me, specifically?” 

There’s so much Shiro could say in answer—

Thinking about how he wants to spend the rest of his life with Keith. Thinking about how amazing Keith is, how amazing he is to want Shiro in his life. Thinking about how he never thought he’d ever have a morning like this, a mundane morning that means nothing in the grand scheme of things, but means everything for the quiet, perfect way it encompasses the life he has now. 

He catches Keith’s hand and presses a kiss to the center of his palm. “I love you.”

That, too, is easy to say. He’s never meant anything as much as he means those three words. 

Keith’s expression melts. He’s beautiful, bathed in a sunbeam and his eyes still sleep-gentle. He brushes the hair away from Shiro’s face, only for little wisps to fall back into his eyes once he draws his hand away. 

“You too,” Keith says quietly and then flops back down on top of Shiro. He rests his cheek against Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro knows he’s listening to the steady pound of his heartbeat, although Shiro isn’t sure if Keith’s even aware he does that. 

“… So, more specifically,” Shiro says and pauses, waiting for Keith to glance back up at him. “More specifically, I was thinking that you make me happy.” 

Keith turns his face up towards him, expression thoughtful as he regards Shiro. 

“I was thinking… I never thought I’d ever be this happy,” Shiro says. He lifts his hand, brushing back some of Keith’s hair and cupping the back of his skull. He lets his hand rest with the gentle weight he knows Keith appreciates. 

Keith nods, fingers curling and uncurling against Shiro’s chest. 

“Did you ever think you’d be?” Shiro asks. 

“No,” Keith says, so immediate that it nearly breaks Shiro’s heart. “Never.” 

Despite how quickly Keith kissed him that first time, years ago, Shiro had always meant to take things slow. There was always a reason to wait— a war, a battle, maybe. A fight among the Paladins. A mission with the Blades. Months of Shiro missing and then coming back. All those near-misses, those almost-chances. There was the weight of Shiro’s soul returning to his body, a long distance to cross to come back home again. Adjustment. Patience. 

Shiro had thought that going slow was what was needed— so he wouldn’t ultimately hurt Keith. He’d lived so long thinking that there was never enough time. Maybe it’d make others go fast, to take life by the horns or to seize all those impulse desires while he could. But for Shiro, all he could think was how he couldn’t hurt Keith and leave him alone forever. 

Just having Keith in his life was enough. A small part of him had convinced himself that Keith would move on, eventually. That someday, he’d be happy— and it wouldn’t be because of Shiro. 

“You’re thinking so loudly,” Keith grumbles and mouths a kiss to Shiro’s chest, lips pressed above his heart. 

And that was always Shiro’s problem all along— to even think that Keith would _want_ to move on. 

Shiro tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair. He tugs once, guiding Keith’s head up to catch his mouth with his, kissing him in long, slow breaths until Keith goes pliant against him. Keith makes a pleased sound, the soft sort of sound he always makes when Shiro takes his time with Keith. 

And they have time now. All the time in the world. Shiro doesn’t have to go slow, but he doesn’t have to rush things, either. Patience. 

Keith is always there to meet him halfway. 

Shiro mouths into the kiss, swallowing every sound Keith makes. He runs his hands down his back. He’ll never get tired of touching Keith, of having him close, of feeling the way their bodies dip and bow to one another. The way they fit together so perfectly. 

Keith quickly turns the kiss demanding, as he so often does. He drags his tongue across Shiro’s teeth and licks into his mouth, drawing out all of Shiro’s breaths. They press together, their hands on one another, Keith groaning out Shiro’s name. It’s the sound of his groan that always makes Shiro tip from early morning innocence into something more heated, more purposeful. 

Shiro holds tight to Keith as he deepens the kiss, angling his head up to let Keith press closer, to curl in closer to him, grasp him and never let go of him. He whispers words against Keith’s lips— mostly his name and smatterings of praise. He knows how praise gets to Keith, the way it ripples through him. _You’re perfect. You’re amazing. I love you._

Keith gasps his name, yanking back to press a series of kisses up along his jaw, nuzzling absently. “Shiro. Stop distracting me—” 

“Oh, I’m distracting _you_?” Shiro asks as Keith sucks a bruise against his throat. He groans quietly as Keith’s teeth and tongue drag over his skin. 

Keith’s always been daring with his kisses. The more time passes, the more Keith just becomes relentless— his confidence rolling off him in waves. There’s nothing sexier than a determined Keith in Shiro’s mind. Keith always makes Shiro feel like he’s about to be undone. 

Keith kisses him again, smiling against his lips, and it leaves Shiro feeling ruinous. He opens his mouth to Keith with a little gasp, shivering as Keith nibbles at him with his teeth, swipes across his bottom lip with his tongue. His fingernails dig into his shoulders as Keith rocks closer and closer to him. Electricity sparks between them, a fire building in Shiro’s gut. 

He pants as Keith pulls away again with a triumphant smile, his eyes sparkling. His fingers touch at the spots he kissed Shiro’s neck, peppering with little bites. There’ll be marks later and Shiro can’t wait to trace them in the bathroom mirror, to map out the constellations Keith makes of him. 

Keith always makes him a sky full of stars. Cosmic. Infinite. 

Keith smiles and Shiro smiles back, helpless and in love. Keith is completely relaxed, happy and sated and eased above him. So Shiro seizes his opportunity, grabbing at Keith and flipping them over again to pin him down against the bed. Once again, Keith squawks in surprise. 

“Shiro!” 

Shiro drops his full weight upon Keith, laughing. “Caught you.”

Keith could throw him off easily, but he’s admitted enough times that he likes the weight of Shiro’s body against his— how it comforts and centers him. Shiro’s not surprised when Keith simply huffs and makes a show of pushing at Shiro before he quickly relents. He flops down against the bed, taking Shiro’s weight. 

“You are _impossible,_ ” Keith says and then yanks Shiro down to kiss him.

It’s hard to kiss with them both laughing, but they somehow manage it. They’ve both always risen to challenges, after all.

Shiro cups Keith’s face, the touch gentle, his thumb swiping down the gentle curve of Keith’s scar. He cradles him close, laughing against his mouth, and never wants to stop feeling so transcendentally, cosmically happy. 

Someday, he thinks, he’ll believe Keith when he says they both deserve it. Someday, he hopes, they’ll be even happier than they are now, even in this mundane moment.

He kisses Keith in a series of short pecks, punctuating each with Keith’s name, breaking away only to breathe and press their foreheads together.

Keith blinks up at him, flushed and pleased, leaning into the touch of Shiro’s hand on his cheek. 

“Impossible,” he says again.

Shiro grins. “But you love me anyway.” 

Keith huffs. His eyes soften despite himself and he kisses Shiro again— just the gentlest peck. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
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